


Haven

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of imagine from Supernaturalimagine: Imagine Dean coming home to the bunker after a difficult hunt and crawling into bed with you because he doesn’t want to face the night alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haven

The deafening sound of Dean’s gun going off fills the evacuated house. The shrieks of the hag follows, almost shaking the house to its core. As the consecrated iron tears through the Shtriga the dying boy plops back onto the hardwood floor. His skin is nearly translucent and damp with sweat from trying to drag his weak body away. West’s expectant parents rush in clutching at their child that is barely breathing. Sirens wail in the distances, sounding too much like the Shtriga for Dean or the family’s liking. Their tears litter the floor as EMTs storm the house. Within what seems like seconds West is in the ambulance and hauled away from the still building.

 

Witchia’s closest pediatric ER department is bustling, filled with the usual Saturday night crowd. Kids that eat something they shouldn’t have, allergic reactions, severe asthma attacks. Now the overly-cheerful, clearly run down, nurses have no clue how to handle West with the limited details his parents are able to give. Even if we told them everything Dean doubts anyone would believe that his substitute teacher had been a monster that feeds off the lifeforce of children. Or that the string of inexplicable child deaths every ten-twenty years was its’ doing.

 

“I’m going to hit the road.” Dean takes one last look at West’s slumbering face. Tubes are sprouting from beneath his blankets.  

 

West’s mothers hustle away from their seats next to the hospital bed. They give Dean a bone-crushing hug but quickly pull away before Dean can figure out what is going on.  

 

“I-we don’t know how to thank you.” They share a knowing chuckle. “But we should say sorry for ganging up on you broke into our house.” Dean feels a twinge of pain from the blossoming bruise on his ribs.

 

Dean waves off their apology. “It’s part of the job.” Dean smiles thinking that he has had worst happen.

 

“Mom...mom…” West hoarse voice breaks through the silence and immediately the women race to his side.

 

The room comes to life with the worried and excited chatter of the mothers. A nurse who noticed the sudden noise comes rushing in. His initially concerned expression lights up, ecstatic that West is awake. He begins to chime in with the parents, checking to see how West feels.

 

Dean watches on, fighting between joining and fading out in the background. Dean despises doing these types of hunts. Anything where children are being used, killed, or targeted churns his stomach. Eventually Dean decides to silently leave, closing the the heavy door as quietly as he can on the excitement. With his head hung Dean steps out of the vibrantly colored waiting room filled with worried faces and sick children, into the overcast twilight.  Thoughts of Lisa and Ben force their way into his thoughts.

 

Dean despises doing these types of hunts. Anything where children are being used, killed, or targeted churns his stomach. Baby roars to life and speeds back towards the bunker with images of Lisa and Ben dancing in his head. Dean could see himself coaching Ben on what to do on a first date. He pictures what his wedding day would be like with Lisa. Crisp white flowers would litter the isle and fairy lights would be strung along the pews. Lisa’s billowing cream princess dress would make her look even more like a goddess. There were so many possibilities with them that he’ll never know what would have happened. Dean’s stuck with memories of them while the remember nothing about him. Frustrated with himself for allowing useless fantasies Dean reaches for some of his tapes but finds your favorite hoodie that you haven’t been able to find for the past few days. Any thoughts that remained about Lisa evaporate. Dean picks up the pace, dying to hold you tight in his arms again.

 

Before long the bunker is on the horizon, the leaf covered pathway illuminated by Baby’s headlights. Exhausted Dean shuts off the Impala and rests with his eyes closed. He tries to shake off the hunt so you don’t end up unnecessarily worrying about him. The crickets chirp away and the trees rustle fill the silence but do nothing to ease away Dean’s frazzled nerves. As Dean enters the bunker he feels the weight of the night lift, everything in the bunker reminds him of you and Sam. The two people Dean can count on no matter what. He passes the bunker’s kitchen on his way upstairs and stops in his tracks.

 

_“Here ya go! How’s it taste?”_

_“Give me a second Dean! You just gave it to me.” You grab a fork and dig into the beautifully prepared Spanish omelette. The soft potatoes and warm egg melt in your mouth. There your mouthful you praise Dean. “Where the hell did you learn to cook like this?”_

_“Just something I had to do, needed to make sure Sam ate right whenever Dad would leave us on our own.” Dean barely hides the glint of sadness or regret at the memories of his and Sam’s childhood. He almost instantaneously refocuses on you. “Eat up! If you want more I can whip something else up.”_

_Dean watches with a great sense of pride and pleasure as you hum in joy at the amazing meal._

 

A smile cracks onto Dean’s face, remembering the way your cheeks puffed out as they filled with food. Your face had lit up as if someone had captured the sun and trapped in underneath your skin. Dean looks into the bunker’s main library, searching to see if you’re still awake with your nose buried in a book. The only sign that Dean sees is a note in the middle of the table.

 

                       Honey,

                       I’m upstairs if you need me. Feel free to wake me up if you

                       need anything. Love you!

                      P.s. I got you a new case of beer and it's’ in the fridge.

                      They should be cold by now.

 

Dean smiles and subconsciously fiddles with his wedding ring, remembering the day he proposed.

 

_“Come on, Y/N. Please get here soon.” Dean shifts his phone in his hand, checking it for any news of your arrival from Sam for the tenth time in three minutes._

_He knows it's’ ridiculous to be worried now, you’ve talked about married life before and he knew you were willing to wait until he was ready but Dean can’t help himself. There is always the possibility that you would change your mind or would realize you don’t feel quite the same way. As soon as Dean asks you there is no way to play it off. Not like how he did when he first told you he loved you. There is no going back._

_“Dean! You would not believe the asshole that cut us off! She just threw herself into our lane like she owns the road!” You give Dean a swift hug and a kiss but stop your rant short. Dean keeps licking his lips and refuses to completely look at you. “Dean, is something wrong?”_

_“Not exactly. I wanted to ask you something.” Dean’s voice is tight and cracking._

_“And this question had to be done at an amusement park? In front of a ferris wheel?” Your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat. With a quiet “fuck it” Dean drops to his knee and takes out a small diamond ring._

_“A place like this is where we had our first real date. Since it is a place that started all of this for us I thought it would be the best place to ask you to start something new with me again. Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”_

_It took you and Dean two months to get your wedding planned. Both of you decided that keeping it small, just your family and Dean’s, would be best. Wanting a very Halloween wedding you had chosen to decorate the bunker like a cheesy haunted house. Fake cobwebs with plastic spiders hung from the bookshelves and in the corners of every room. You and your mother made Grateful Dead cocktails and a ghost shaped pie as your wedding cake._

_Dean stood at the styrofoam tombstone altar in a Dracula costume with Castiel behind in priest robes, visibly confused by your design choices. Sam stood off to the side covered in patches of fake fur and with spiky ears clipped in his hair. Your mother and father were off to the side, tears already bubbling as they catch a glimpse of you peeking around the corner, dressed as Frankenstein and his wife._

_Excited and on edge you strut down the makeshift aisle of tables in a Wicked Witch costume to the tone of the Ghostbusters theme song. Most of the ceremony is a blur for the both of you. All you can remember is the look of astonishment on Dean’s face as you walk towards him. His jaw clenches, his throat went as dry as the Sahara desert. Dean can barely breath let alone speak but manages to get through his vows without losing the last ounce of his composure._

_“Dean Winchester, do you take this woman, Y/N L/N, to be your wife?”_

_“I do.” Dean’s hands shake as he slips your wedding band onto your ring finger._

_“Y/N L/N, do you take this man, Dean Winchester, to be your husband?”_

_“I do.”_

 

Dean speeds up stairs straight to your shared bedroom. Your resting form gently moves with every breath. Dean, fearful of waking you, cautiously removes his heavy shoes. His jeans and shirt land on top of his discarded shoes. Dean eases his weight into the bed, watching you to make sure he doesn’t disturb you. You don’t shift so Dean takes it as his cue to move closer.

 

Your scent, pomegranates and vanilla, fills Dean’s senses as he wraps his arm around your waist. His hand slides against your ever growing bump. Your soft skin has stretched in such unbelievable ways that Dean continuously checks to see it has grown more every day. Dean strokes the new stretch marks that are on your hips and belly.

 

For weeks you’d been stressing over the new marks, unnecessarily agonizing over them. Some part of you worried that Dean would find them gross or unattractive. You knew it was silly. The things that man has seen and for him to be disgusted or becoming disinterested in you because of something you can’t control would be insane. But you’ve had and seen people leave their loved ones for more petty reasons before.

 

Dean, on the other hand, likes feeling them whenever he wraps himself around you. He sees them as a badge of honor. Your body is doing incredible things to create another person. A child that belongs to the both of you. If Dean is honesty with himself the thought torments him. Even as Dean lays next to you, drinking up the comfort he finds in your presence, the fear he feels about being a responsible for something so fragile weighs heavily on him. There are numerous ways he could screw everything up. One misstep on a hunt or the wrong enemy finding their way to you could change everything.

 

The image of West lying in his hospital bed, struggling to stay alive drives a stake through Dean’s heart. This hunt hit a little too close to home. He’d almost lost Sam to a Shtriga and now watching a child that could easily have been his own being feasted on was too much. Dean brings his head close to your belly and presses a kiss against the supple flesh. You’re real, you’re here. Dean realizes that this life he has with you is something he wouldn’t trade even if it meant fixing things with Lisa and Ben. This is his shot to be there, from the beginning, for you and your kid.

 

“Hey kiddo.” Dean keeps his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m going to make sure I keep you and your mommy safe. I’m never going to let anything happen to either of you. Alright? I love you.”    

 

Your hand snakes its’ way into Dean’s hair, massaging the tension away. Dean exhales, enjoying your touch. It brings him into a state of relaxation that he desperately needs. You slowly shift onto your other side to face Dean. Instantly, his face lands in the crook of your neck. Dean tries to overwhelm his senses with your smell, your.

 

Dean asks the question that’s been nagging at him since you announced your pregnancy. “Do you think I’m going to be a good enough father?”

 

You stroke Dean’s cheek and press a kiss against his forehead. Dean clutches at you, making sure to not put too much pressure on your bump.

 

“Dean, they’re going to love you.”

 

“You really think so?” The reality of what you said sinks in a moment later and Dean quickly detaches from you. His eyes are wide and his mouth gapes. “They?”

  
“Surprise!”


End file.
